


Supernova

by TheSingerThatYouWanted (orphan_account)



Category: Nathan Barley (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:06:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3272828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheSingerThatYouWanted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just a short one-shot I wrote while watching the IT Crowd for the millionth time. Not sure why this popped into my head, but I'm quite pleased with it. Um. Yeah. Enjoy?</p>
    </blockquote>





	Supernova

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short one-shot I wrote while watching the IT Crowd for the millionth time. Not sure why this popped into my head, but I'm quite pleased with it. Um. Yeah. Enjoy?

Colours hissed from the speakers, harsh beats drawing long curves through the air in a thousand different shades of blue. They were hypnotic, beautiful. Jones reached out his hands to try and catch them but found himself distracted by the golden light streaming through his veins. His arm seemed almost transparent under the club's UV light, or possibly as a side effect of the drugs he'd taken. He'd always been able to see his mixes in some form, understanding the sounds and the colours which moved alongside them without really having to think about it. This was different. Everything seemed sharper, like it was glowing. It was almost dizzying.  
He stumbled back to avoid another man, who was carrying a tray of drinks. He cast a lingering glance after him, taking the time to appreciate the way he fitted so nicely into his tight trousers, but then someone who was obviously the stranger's boyfriend appeared. They kissed, melting against each other, and Jones sighed in disappointment. It had been such a long time. It wasn't like he was looking for a steady relationship; just an easy pull, something to take his mind off the terrible longing in his chest. To see the other men looking so happy together only made it worse.  
Dimly he became aware of a twinge in his bladder and he pressed his palm lightly against his abdomen, looking around anxiously for the toilets. It only took him a few seconds to find them- after one close call too many he'd learned it was best to always know the location of the bar, the toilets, and the back way out. He hurried over, squinting at the neon sign above the door.  
After he'd finished relieving himself Jones happened to catch sight of his reflection in the mirror. He froze, staring at the image in shock. The man gazing back at him had wide blue eyes, dark hair sticking up all over the place, and his clothes were tugged slightly askew. Jones moved his hand experimentally, blinking in confusion when the image followed his lead. The man in the mirror couldn't possibly be him, because Jones was certain that in that moment he was made of nothing more substantial than moonlight and wisps of smoke. Swaying slightly in an attempt to keep his balance, he reached out to touch the glass. He was expecting to feel someone else's hand in his, a warm grip instead of cold, smooth glass. It was unsettling. Like he wasn't quite real.  
Suddenly Jones felt sick, the room spinning faster around him, and he staggered across the room until he reached the door. Pushing past the other people in the club, not so much as sparing a glance at the attractive man from earlier, he ran to the exit and took a deep, hungry breath of the cold night air. It was several seconds before he was steady enough to walk. He wasn't certain of much, not with the strange cocktail of chemicals flooding his system, but he knew that he needed to go home.  
It didn't take him long before he was stumbling through the door into the flat, having only stopped once on the way to throw up in some bushes.  
"Dan?" he shouted, slurring the word slightly. The single syllable rolled smoothly off his tongue like a drop off honey, and he relished the taste of it.  
"Jones?" asked a familiar voice, one which sounded like the smell of an open fire on a cold autumn's evening. Jones smiled broadly as his flatmate came into view.  
"Is something wrong?" asked Dan, moving towards him in a rainbow-coloured blur. Jones nodded and swayed on his feet, wrapping his arms around the taller man's neck with a sigh. Dan looked bewildered, but put a hand at his back to steady him. The ache in Jones' chest swelled, drowning out all conscious thought as he pressed his face to Dan's shirt.  
"Hey, Jones, what is it?" murmured the taller man in a vaguely soothing tone, awkwardly rubbing small circles on his back. Jones gazed up at him, at the indigo halo around his head, and somewhere inside of him the swirling mess of drugs and alcohol muttered 'Go on. What have you got to lose?'  
"Love you," he said quietly, hiding his face in the hollow of Dan's neck. After a cinnamon-scented pause Dan carefully put his hand to his chin and tilted his head up.  
"What did you say?" he asked. He looked more confused than Jones remembered seeing him. Angry, certainly, and despairing far too often, but never confused. Dan always had something to say.  
Jones couldn't speak, lost in the look in his flatmate's eyes. There was something unidentifiable in there, something alive and raw and desperate. He reached out cautiously to try and catch it, dragging his fingertips lightly across Dan's cheek. For a moment there was nothing real in the world, everything slowing down into nothingness. Jones was terrified, unable to move.  
When Dan leaned down to kiss him, however, the stars in his veins exploded into supernovae.  
"I love you," he murmured against the taller man's mouth. Dan didn't speak, just kept kissing him. Jones could feel his bones melting into silver and gold, flowing into the taller man until he couldn't tell where he ended and Dan began.  
"Idiot," whispered the older man, breaking away from the kiss. "You idiot, Jones, you had me worried."  
Jones reached up to touch his face, drawing patterns he couldn't quite see.  
"Peppermint blue," he whispered, by way of reply.

**Author's Note:**

> I am horrific at responding to comments and I apologise, but honestly any feedback at all makes my day.


End file.
